


Whumptober 7

by Waywocket



Category: Crewton
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, but they're robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywocket/pseuds/Waywocket
Summary: Jack is a good brother. He has to be.
Kudos: 1
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Whumptober 7

Brothers look out for each other. And Jack is a good brother, he had to be. So he'd been keeping an eye on his big brother. Though he doesn't meddle, that would be annoying!

So when a couple of Hertz Boys drag a powered down Edge out back to throw in a dumpster, Jack just grins widely. 

"Good evening, boys!" He happily chirped, grinning wider when they jumped and dropped Edge in a clattering heap.

"Thanks for looking after my brother. I'll take over from here if you don't mind." Leveling them with an overclocked stun gun, he happily pulled the trigger. And didn't let go until smoke poured from their joints. 

"Honestly, Edge. You must be careful," he chided, fondly. "What if I hadn't been here?" 

He wasn't as strong as Edge, but he grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him up and over his shoulders. Jack was a good brother and would do his best.

Walking back to the apartment he'd been staying in was quite a trek. More than once, Jack had to stop and rest. 

Lots of people watched them, but he only smiled and waved. No reason to be anything but friendly. He was being a very good brother indeed.

Once he got to the little apartment he pretended was home, he got Edge comfortable on the bed. It was a nice apartment if you ignored the bloodstains.

Very gently, Jack took Edge's hat and coat, hanging them by the door. Next, he worked open his shirt and unclipped the curly wig, trying to work out what was wrong with him.

Jack was no engineer, but he was made in his image, after all. He should be able to at least get him to power back on. He was a good brother.

Taking off the damaged plating came first, trying to beat it back into shape. Some pieces broke and, Jack frowned deeply when he looked the metal pieces over. Breaking was easy, fixing was difficult. He would just have to practice more!

He would have to take even more care as he continued. Each piece of plating he put off to the side, to be put back on if they were in one piece still. Inside was a bit messier. The Hertz Boys had knocked wires loose and bent a few pieces.

Briefly, Jack wondered if he could replace some parts to ease some of the pain he felt. Only briefly. He was here to help his brother. That was what brothers did. And he was a good brother. 

But he could do it the other way. Slipping off his own shirt, he hung it up on the bedpost. “Brother’s share after all,” he said aloud, wincing as he pried his own plating open. It hurt worse than normal, but he could endure. A few pieces wouldn’t hurt any more than normal.

Only they did. Jack cried out as he removed a gear to replace with one he tried to bend back into shape. After a few pieces, he had to sit on the bed, squeezing his chest tightly, trying to ease some of the pain. He would need help when this was over.

Gasping for breath, he carefully put the pieces of plating back on his brother. Then came the wig, fixing the curls to be perfect after clipping it on. Then the shirt, straightening his clothes to look immaculate. 

Sometime later, Edge opened his optics, trying to remember what had happened. Everything ached and was stiff. It felt like he had been pulled apart. Suddenly, he sat up when he remembered fighting with the Hertz Boys and getting hit in the back of the head.

Metal clattered to the floor when he sat up. Looking down, he raised a metal brow, those were his. 

Carefully, he ran his hands over his clothes and winced when he felt the open spaces. They must have tried to take him apart.

Scooping up his plating, he pulled himself off the bed. He had to get back to Fletcher and the Handlers. He wasn’t in good shape, and it was hard to move, but he pulled himself along. 

Walking through the apartment, he wished he could puke, seeing all the blood splattered on the walls. The smell was overpowering.

With shaky hands, he reached for his phone. He needed to tell someone where he was. Looking out the window as the phone dialed, he raised a brow. This was the rich district, on the other end of town from the gang’s hideout. None of this made sense.


End file.
